Two Months
by dragondancer123
Summary: Losing someone important to you can make even two months feel like an eternity. Rated T for cursing. For DP angst day.


**For my grandpa. I miss you, you old geezer.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sam or DP, but the experiences are all mine.  
**

Two Months

Um …I don't know how to really start this thing. My mom says that writing in a journal will help me get over it, but so far…it's just awkward. Well, I guess I'll just... start with what happened.

My grandma died. Two months ago exactly. It just feels weird to actually write it down; it's like confirming it actually happened. I keep expecting her to just roll around the corner and say, 'Your mother, I can't believe she locked me in the closet like that!' or something. It's getting harder to remember exactly what she would say when I think of her.

I do know that she would be making fun of me right about now. She'd say, 'Sam, what's the matter with you? Make a tear, I don't see one! You're not that sad, then.' I used to hate it when she did that. She would always get really close up in my face and point a finger right where a tear would be if I was really crying. Now, it would just make me laugh. Hell, I'd give anything to have her do that to me again.

I'm such a baby, I'm crying.

I should have seen something like this coming. Early on, I had mistakenly called what wasn't supposed to be cancer lymphoma. She just had a little lymph disease, nothing to worry about. Just a little nip and she'd be making jokes like nothing happened. I was being a smart-ass and trying to assign a name for it, and the first thing that popped into my head was 'lymphoma'.

God, I hate even typing that word now…

Anyway, my dad rounded on me faster than you could say, 'radiation therapy'. I'd never heard him so scared in my life. He told me off for even joking about it. I'm just happy that Grandma was in the hospital by then, and wasn't around to hear me. I feel like I'm partially responsible. If only I could turn back time…

Although, now that I think about it; I probably could. Danny would definitely try to find Clockwork for me, at least, though I doubt it would make much of a difference now. I'd still remember what it was like, not having her around. I'd distance myself, just to make sure that I wouldn't feel like this again. That wouldn't be fair to Grandma.

I don't even know _why_ I'm trying this. Mom said that getting my feelings out would help, but so far, I just feel worse. I'm having trouble sleeping as it is.

Oh well, at least I'll be able to tell her that I tried it and not lie. I'm willing to try anything to make the pain go away.

I've been 'talking' to Grandma every night before I go to sleep, like I promised her I would. I've never been big on prayer. I always thought that God had better things to do than listen to whiney teenage girls yak his ear off about boyfriend troubles or school problems. Grandma listened to me whine while she was here, why not up there too? It's not like there's anything else there, right? I doubt they have poker games. I just wish that there was a way that she could answer though. I feel like I'm crazy because I'm, essentially, talking to myself. Granted, I'm talking to myself inside my head, which is just thinking really. But the whole point of what I'm doing is that I'm thinking to someone who isn't in front of me, someone who I can't see or hear.

I know I'm repeating myself, but it's my journal, right? I can repeat myself as much as I want. It's not like anyone's going to read this… And anyone who can turn invisible, sneak into my room without my knowing and read my journal BETTER stop if he knows what's good for him.

I'm getting way off topic. Bottom line, I miss her. I miss her a lot.

Damnit, I'm crying again. I hate crying. Heh, 'make a tear!'

I discovered a lot about myself during this catastrophe, though. Like, I make fun of things to avoid talking or thinking about them. Or, I get pissed off at anyone who tries to help me feel better.

The day that it happened, February fourth in case I forget, I had a big test that I had to take. I know, sucks right? I couldn't believe it when my mom climbed into bed with me to hug me and tell me that day would be a day I could stay home from school. She'd even make sure I would get excused from all of the homework due. Too bad I couldn't understand at six in the morning that the thing that I had been dreading had finally happened. I went to school. I didn't want to stay home around everyone. I was the only one who actually left the house the entire day.

I almost made it through the whole school day.

I told Danny and Tuck what had happened once I had wrapped my own head around the situation, and I made it to first period without being late, despite crying my eyes out for at least half an hour before class. It was a miracle in itself that the boys were there early, they said that they woke up around when I did and felt that they might as well get to school. One of those things I guess.

Everyone at school seemed to get that I needed to be left alone. Even Paulina shut her fat mouth up when I walked into the room. Must have been my eyes. I know I looked like a stoner; I'm surprised no one mentioned it.

Lunch actually went well, despite me having to force myself to act normal. I wanted it though. I wanted – no, _needed_ – everything to be normal. We talked about normal stuff, made fun of the jocks, made fun of Jazz and talked about everything but what happened.

It was during science class, my last period, that I broke down. I walked right up to Mr. Falluca and told him that I wasn't feeling well. My eyes were burning. He told me to go ahead and leave; I think that was the nicest thing he's ever done for me. I started walking down the hallway, I made it about halfway down before I just fell down against the wall and started sobbing. I didn't care who saw me, and I know some people did, I could hear them walking past me. I don't know why it took me that long to finally start grieving.

I barely heard the bell ring for the end of the day. I don't know how they found me, but Danny and Tucker were next to me when I finally calmed down enough to remember where I was. They told me it was okay…I didn't believe them.

One great thing happened though; some guy saw me and must have thought, 'hey, she looks bad. I wanna make it worse!' He came over and actually had the nerve to say, "Hey, do you know where the cotton candy is? 'Cause you look like you came from the circus." Then he just walked away.

Man! Danny's eyes _couldn't_ have been greener. I thought that guy was gonna blow up right then and there. I couldn't see Tucker's face, but the hand he was holding my shoulder with got really tight. I just laughed a little. He's going to go home one day and find his closest family member dead, then I'm going to say something mean to him. Eye for an eye – it worked for the Romans.

That next Monday – I think it was a holiday – was the funeral. I had asked my parents if Tucker and Danny could go, I almost died myself when they actually said yes. My grandma didn't want anything fancy or expensive. Grandma wasn't actually there. I don't know what I would have done if she was. She didn't want to be. My parents actually listened to her. It was nice; I cried my eyes out, but it was nice. My father went up to read the eulogy, and it took him about an hour because he was crying so much. I think I just about gave Danny a heart attack when I grabbed onto him during the ending of the service.

I just couldn't…I don't know how to put it into words. I just felt so lonely. I still do. She was my rock. Anytime I needed advice, I just went into her room and she'd help. No matter what it was, she never laughed at me…unless I was just being silly. She made me laugh when I was sad and let me cry on her shoulder when I needed to. She was my teacher, my mentor and my best friend. Nothing will ever replace her.

If anything good came from this…mountain of crap, it would have to be that I learned something. I have to be more in touch with my emotions. If I'm happy, I have to be happy. If I'm sad, I _have_ to be sad. Otherwise I'll just burn out.

I'm definitely not feeling happy or even sad now, I'm angry. I'm angry at myself for not _doing_ something when I could, for distancing myself to try and make it hurt less. I'm angry at my parents for being so damn _nice_ right now, trying to act like nothing ever happened even though by acting nice they are making it _obvious_ that something bad happened. I'm angry at cancer for existing. I'm angry at the oncologists for not trying hard enough. But most of all, I'm angry at God for taking someone who didn't deserve to go, who was still needed here on Earth.

…I still needed her…now more than ever. I'm scared. More scared than I've ever been. I'm in college with barely anything familiar around me and I don't have anyone who cares enough, or knows enough, about me to help me through it. I'm terrified about how my life will be without her around. What will I do after I graduate? What will happen when I get married? What about kids? I don't know how to do any of that, and my mom's got other things to worry about. It's only been two months (that have felt like years) and I'm already falling apart…

…I'm lost…


End file.
